


Clone War Whumptober 2020

by Dragon_Pups



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27111454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_Pups/pseuds/Dragon_Pups
Summary: Whumptober and now Whumpvember One-Shots of me tormenting my three ARC OCs and guest staring canon clones.Additional Tags at the beginning of each chapter.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	1. Let’s Hang out Sometime

**Author's Note:**

> Warning/Possible Triggers: Angst, Depression, Torture
> 
> If you find any possible triggers or warnings I missed, do please inform me. This is for fun and not to accidentally hurt someone.
> 
> Prompts used: Waking up restrained, Shackled, and Hanging
> 
> It's been a while since I wrote anything, so if you have advice on how I can improve please let me know.  
> Thank you for reading. If you have any Characters you would like to see please leave a comment.  
> I already have the next two chapters written (focusing on my other two ARCs respectively) and the third mostly done (that one has shiny baby Tup!).

Of all the ways for a mission to go waking up in a dank crumbling dungeon cell was not how he saw this going. Tight quarters of rough stone walls. A buzzing and dim flashing light making sleep impossible. The overwhelming smell of feces and decay rolling his stomach. The manacles around his wrists and ankles are just an added bonus to his luxurious abode. Short chains connect him to the wall. His movement would be limited to nothing even if he could reach the floor. Apparently the droids learned to fear an ARC that can still move.

Counting cracks, rocks, and breaths is all he has to distract himself; to pass the time between visits. The droids come knocking at the same time everyday. Always with demands and questions, and those **karking** **damned electrostaffs**. Another day filled with disappointment on both sides. No answers, and no end. They leave and it's back to counting, back to holding on, holding out. He only has hope, the only hope a clone can have; that someone important is captured. That they’re held in a cell close by, that the rescuer is a brother, and that he has time to rescue others. Such a small hope with such an infinitesimal chance of happening; but a hope nonetheless.

What he wouldn’t give to at least have his blacks. This cell is cold… or maybe it's the blood loss, if the intense throbbing from his side is to be acknowledged. That stupid mistake got him **stabbed** , got him _captured_. The droids don’t even realize that they have a dead man. They don’t realize that while he may be hanging here, he is also making his escape. Slowly but surely he’s bleeding to death. All the torture keeps reopening his wound, every day another step closer to peace, _to freedom_.

When they leave it’s all he can do to get a weak hum out of his dry throat, a melancholy melody of pain and longing. If he wasn’t a dead man he wouldn’t admit to the grief, to the weakness. ARCs are supposed to be the strongest and bravest of the GAR. They are supposed to have the answers, the solutions. They are able to withstand any and everything. GAR soldiers get nothing, are trained to want for nothing; but in this lonely cell he can admit that he wants. Just this one time he will give into the desire to want. He just wants to go home, to his brothers. 

Ducking his chin to his chest he lets long hair hide his tears. Long hair that should be in a braid. In a braid for his brothers to tug to get his attention, or play with when they’re anxious. Brothers he should be with now; brothers that could be dead. He wants, so desperately wants his brothers, his big brothers. He wants to go home. Away from this cell, these cold heavy chains, away from the creeping darkness flooding his vision, and the sleep that's calling to him. _He wants..._


	2. In the Hands of the Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings/Possibly Triggers: Torture, Slavery, Children in bad environments  
> If I missed any triggers or warnings please let me know.
> 
> Prompts used: Collars, Kidnapped (kinda, it was mostly reference added for giggles)

Jam down, scoop up, throw into the flame, jam down, scoop up, throw into flame, get hit, get up, repeat. It's all rather monotonous really. One would think that slave training would be a little more difficult, a bit more will shattering, not boring. Maybe he’s just a little bit too used to pain, honestly what's a few more scars. He’s more concerned about Rex; that reckless lippy blond ad'ika that’s somehow a Captain when he was hip high only yesterday.

All around are the harsh cracks drowned by pained cries quickly smothered. Whips rain down on shoulders every step, every stumble. “Faster worthless skug” arrives to the ears along with every blow to the back. Hundreds of civilians slowly driven to death, choking on smoke, weak with hunger. Children hide from slavers behind parents only to get them both whipped. **_Children that should be playing, covered in grass and dirt stains, not blood and soot._**

The harsher than normal shovel of coal into the furnace was rewarded with a lashing and an excruciatingly long shock to his system. He must have made a noise that catches Rex’s attention. Breaking eye contact as soon as it's made he heaves another scoop into the furnace; furious that he let his vod'ika see him weak. Furious that he’s failing him. The concern in his gaze is normal for vod, but the wariness and fatigue was discouraging. They need to get out of here. Just got to hold on and stick to the General like a shiny to an ori’vod. One of the Generals will think of something, will get them out.

His sweat gathers beneath the horrible bulky collar and stolen Zygerrian armor. Salt making his wounds sting and itch. Another shovel full, another blast of heat. Feeding the furnace alone while his little brother looks after the stupidly noble jetii. Hands bleeding as they’re scrapped open on the abrasively rough handle of the shovel. Why did he offer to tag along? He should have just moved on to the next mission. But no, he had to be curious about Commander Tano’s people and her culture. He had to become attached to the little ankle biter. All because she’s Rex'ikas baby sister, his ad'ika. 

Risking his own glance at the General and the Captain is more disheartening than past days of torture. The General’s covered in burns, blood, and ashe; blue eyes shattered and dark. The Captain hides an exhausted stumble behind a step that's meant to look purposeful and confident. The slavers have been having fun pushing the jetii’s limits and breaking his will. Rex sticks close and suffers more for it. _Stupidly loyal._ This place is killing him, the jetii is killing his vod'ika through his honor.

Suddenly all work stops as slaves are rounded up and he, Rex and the General are herded elsewhere. Looks like time may be up. As they are shoved through the door, down the stairs and to their knees. The fat Zygerrian slug hovers smugly “Someone wishes to speak with you.” and as the holotable lights up and Count Dooku appears its clear… _Times up._


	3. My Way or the Highway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning/Possible Triggers: Angst, Nightmares, Panic Attacks (more implied than described, but it could be read as such)  
> As usual if I missed a trigger do please inform me.
> 
> Prompts used: Manhandled (mostly towards the end).
> 
> I'm not 100% on this chapter, so I may come back and edit/add things. But I've been procrastinating on posting anything so it's going up now. This chapter follows after Chapter 1, and has the ARC from Chapter 2. My three little psychos.

They had gotten their vod'ika back from the Separatists three weeks ago. Most of the first two he spent submerged and unconscious in bacta. Officially under the supervision of one of the medical officers. Unofficially he was being monitored by his older brother. The ARC has neatly settled himself into the roll of a medic. His build is meek for an ARC, but allows him to mostly blend in; if not look like a slightly too buff medic. He does not let himself be out of sight of his vod'ika for long, but does his best for the brothers unofficially under his care. 

Then the third week came. Once his brother woke up the first time he never fell asleep again. It was obvious to him and his ori'vod, but either the medics didn’t catch it, or were tired of bad mannered patients. Especially those mouthy patients that have two unhappy ARC always hover just in eyesight. Far enough to be out of the way, close enough to be unnerving for the tending medic. One thick with muscle decorated in more scars than should be possible for one human to survive. The other knowledgeable enough in the medical arts to micromanage every treatment, to correct techniques. Maybe it was them, but at the end of the third week the three of them got kicked out of medbay. 

With strict orders of bedrest and light duty the three retired to their temporary quarters. Why the GAR saw fit to separate ARCs from regular troopers he will never know, but was never more grateful for it than that night. When their little brother woke up screaming and thrashing it took both of them to pin him. It took time to catch flailing limbs, and they still took punches and kicks to the head and torso. Eventually they had to roll him on his front to keep him from attempting to bite or headbutt them. After a hellish five minutes the thrashing stops, replaced by broken sobs. Quickly they bundle him onto a bunk. Piled together on a bed too small they hold him between them. Running soothing hands through long hair and along limbs, humming songs of peace and love directly into ears. An hour of release and comfort passes before their brother settles. Passed out, sandwich by his brothers, with his head pillowed at an awkward angle on his brother's bicep. They stayed like that the entire night, taking turns sleeping and watching over their injure vod'ika.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If your interested in seeing my three boys, let me know and I'll work up some sketches of them.


	4. Running Out of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a Two-Shot. The second part should be up in a few days.
> 
> The ARCs in this story are the ones from the first three chapters.  
> Melody: POV/Narrator of Chapter One  
> Zombie: POV/Narrator of Chapter Two  
> Inferno: POV/Narrator of Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning/Possible Triggers: Death, Injury, Claustrophobic Situations. (All mentioned, but not detailed.)
> 
> I don't think there are any major triggers (at least not in detail), but I could have easily missed something. So please let me know if I did.
> 
> Prompts used: Buried Alive.
> 
> I have no idea how this became so long. I think I might have gotten possessed by something. Maybe by my adoration of Tup or of seeing the softer side of clones.

Working with the 501st was always an adventure and a half. Psychos the lot of them even by ARC standards. Though this had to be the worst possible mission. Not because of a rough battle or horrible losses; though those are sure to come. No, it's all the garbage and filth. Why did the separatist, mainly Count Dooku, have to find an ancient and devastating weapon here? And why two years later are the republic wanting to search for more? And why were they volunteered for this? 

Raxus Prime, the force damned largest garbage heap of a planet. This planet is covered in garbage like Kamino is water. He feels sorry for the poor shinies whose first taste of the galaxy at large is this rotten hot trash. There're always plenty of shinies in any given battalion, but luck smiled on the 501st and they only had a handful. One shiny eyed his brothers braid with something akin to envy and excitement, and he just knew the kid would grow his out long as well. Traveling down old tunnels covered in something slimy, the small group of clones search for ‘anything of interest’. Crypted kriffing jetii. 

Sudden blaster bolts from flanking sides sends the team to the walls huddling into any alcove for cover. The ARCs herd the shines into one of the larger hollows and return fire. 

“Kriff! We’re pinned. How far are we from the rendezvous site?” Inferno shouts over his shoulder as he attempts to both cover and tend to an injured brother.

“Five klicks, but that's not counting elevation and winding, round about kriffing tunnels!” Zombie growls as he mows down the approaching droids with his Z-6.

“Sir! If we can push back the way we came there was a diverging path about half a klick from here.”

“It would be easier if we were only being shot at from one side… sir.” 

“Agreed. Limber up shinies we’re making a break for it.” Melody gruffly says as he pushes a shinys head out of the way of a blaster bolt. 

“And stick to Inferno’s ass like slime to a Gungan.” Zombie snarls while breaking off the head of a B1 that got to close.

“It’s actually mucus, sir.”

“Why the hell do you know that ‘83.”

“Triv is full of weird facts.”

“Enough chatter. On my mark… NOW!”

With the white-blue burst from the droid poppers the group of ARCs and rookies rush the southern group of droids. With a hail of blaster fire they break through the column. With Inferno on point, with the injured shiny thrown over his shoulder, and the other two ARCs covering the rear the group makes a break for the tunnel. Boots pound on stone followed by metallic marching all covered by a symphony of blaster fire rings throughout the corridor. The group of clones dip, dive, zig and zag through the passage dodging bolts and returning fire.

“Eight hundred meters… seven hundred meters… six hundred meters… five hundred meters… four hundr-ah!”

“Numer!” 

“He’s gone! Keep it moving shiny!” The shout came too late as the next rookie was felled to blaster fire. “Kriff!”

“Sir the entrance!” The shinies make a break for the tunnel entrance, as a B2 shoved to the front of the closing platoon. 

“DOW-” 

The screeching whistle of the missile drowns out the rest of Zombies shout. The following impact and its shock waves causes massive slabs of rock to collapse into the tunnel. As the dust settles he glances around. The path they came from is blocked and a few bits of sparking droids can be seen; as is the path to the front and the diverging tunnel. Rock cuts off hope of any way out, and it took the shinies along with it. Groaning and coughing allows him to find and dig out Melody. Dragging his brother into the small alcove created by the huge column of rock that saved his life. He briefly checks him over before the sound of tumbling stones causes him to drop over his brother protectively. Glancing around again he sees an armored hand reaching out of the newly loosened heap. Limping over Zombie grabs the arm and pulls. Out comes Inferno with his other arm securely around the shiny he was carrying. 

“How-”

Inferno cuts him off with a harsh bark of “Fine, just took an awful knock to the head.”

“You or the shiny?” Even with their helmets on, Zombie can feel the burning ire in his brother's gaze. 

“The shiny. I got a few broken ribs. My legs are well and truly osik’la, and my right ear drum burst. What the fuck happened to you two?” Inferno doesn’t have the most cheerful attitude, but he has never sounded so droll yet so dead inside before. Granted getting a tunnel collapsed on you and then dragged with a limb body on broken ribs can’t be comfortable. 

“I got a few bumps and bruises, a couple blaster grazes, and jacked my leg up something fierce. Melody cracked his helmet so he breathed in quite a bit of dust, he has a dislocated shoulder and bruising around the ribs and across his back. So the ribs may be broken, but are definitely cracked, and I would rather not think about what spinal injury he may have.”

Gently laying his brothers into the alcove Zombie gets to treating their injuries. The blaster burns, scraps and bruises were simple enough, and with the direction of Inferno he was able to properly set his brothers bones and bind their ribs. By the time most of the treatable injuries were tended to the shiny’s head was starting to lull as he groggily woke up. Placing his hand on the shiny’s chest, he gently pushed down to stop him from getting up “Easy shiny.” 

“I’m gonna ask you some questions, I want you to answer them to the best of your ability.” Inferno says as he hands Zombie a small pin light. As Zombie checks the rookies pupils, he continues; “What’s your name?” 

“CT-5385.”

“How old are you?” 

“Nine.”

“Do you remember what happened?” 

“…ambushed … then cave in…”

“Do you know what planet you’re on?”

“Raxus Prime”

“What day is it?”

“…centaxday?”

“Hm… hopefully just a mild second grade concussion, but we’ll be waking you up every couple hours. Just to be sure.”

“Alright… are the jedi coming to get us or?”

“You have good jetiise and brothers never leave brothers behind. They’ll come looking when we don’t reach the rendezvous on schedule.” Melody scratchily comforts from his resting place against the cavern wall.

“Plus if we can get this kriffing comm working they will know we are alive and where to find us.” Inferno huffs out as he reaches over to gently pat the shiny’s leg. The three ARCs take turns trying to get one of their comms to work and get a signal to their allies. Two hours pass with uncomfortable rest and quiet curses. Taking a break from the stubbornly difficult comm unit, Zombie limps over to the rookie. Settling roughly against the wall he lays his hand on the shinies shoulder. 

“Wake up kid,” Zombie softly says as he rubs his thumb in circles. When the shiny grumbles and slowly blinks his eyes open he continues, “how are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, head hurts though.”

“Yeah I bet.” Zombie hums and lightly scratches the kids head as he curls into his leg. 

“Hey kid… I have a question. Your squadmates, batchmates, they had names, why don’t you have one yet?”

“Melody!”

“I’m just curious! Most batchers, as I have observed, get their names in rather close succession.”

“We got our names months apart. Vod'ika you don’t have to answer that.” Zombie interrupts his squadmates bicker and softly squeezes the shiny’s shoulder.

“I… I just never found one I liked...”

“Did your brothers try to name you?” Inferno asks, finally putting down his comm.

“… Not really.”

“Would you like us to?” Melody adds quietly, shuffling up into a sitting position. 

“If you want… Can I see your comms?”

“Sure?” They all had over their comms and sat contemplating on names for the shiny. The kid starts taking apart the comm units and wiring the transmitters together to boost the signal.

“What do you think about Cuyan?” 

“Hm… I don’t know.” The kid says looking uncertain. 

“How about Boc? Or Stone?”

“I don’t think either of those are in good taste, Melody.” Zombie once again interrupts this time shaking his head in exasperation. A slight beep breaks the threes stare off, and they whip around to stare at the now working comm.

“Tox” Zombie exclaims at the same time as Inferno says, “Mirdala”

“I still think Darap would be better.” Melody shrugs with a teasing spark in his eyes and smirk on his face.

“Chur” Inferno slings back and Melody quickly follows with “Nat”

Zombie hums then gently bumps the shiny, “What about Tup?”

“The fierfeks a Tup?” Melody and Inferno demand together with raised brows.

“It’s a representation of overcoming and achieving. It’s a reflection of the assertion of strength in creative ways to get to a breakthrough. It is also associated with sacrifice. A Tup is an icon for action and heroism.”

“I like it.” Melody nods.

“I don’t know...”

“Without you we wouldn’t have known about the tunnel-” Inferno adds in obvious support of the name.

“But-”

“We would have all been killed in the crossfire, it was just bad luck that killed your batchers not you.” Melody says with strong conviction holding sturn eye contact with the shiny. 

“Plus you’re the one who finally got the comms working” Inferno adds on with a shrug, “and you did it in a rather creative way. That makes you our hero.”

“Seems like a good fit to me!” Zombie brilliantly smiles down on the rookie who proceeds to hide his face into his thigh.

“Well ‘85.” Melody huffs, gently kicking the shiny’s ankle. The three ARCs wait with bated breaths as the shiny is lost in thought. 

“It’s Tup.” The three older brothers softly smile with pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the sketches of my three ARCs completed, but will probably wait to post them until they're colored. That will be in a weeks time at most, but if you want to see the sketches without color I'll post them sooner.
> 
> Mando’a  
> Cuyan (Survivor)  
> Mirdala (Clever)  
> Chur (Under)
> 
> Rodese  
> Tox (Quick-witted) 
> 
> Ryl  
> Boc (Rock column)  
> Darap (Stone)  
> Nat (Rock)


	5. ~Art Break!~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So instead of writing the second part I got lost in drawing the chaotic trio. The black and white versions, along with the colored images bellow, can be found on deviantart under DragonPupsAO3. I tried to make it simple to find. So hope you enjoy my less than professional drawing ability, and I should be getting the really chapter 5 up soon (Hopefully).

ARC-1967 "Inferno"

ARC-5795 "Melody"

ARC-6297 "Zombie"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any questions about my boys feel free to ask. Cheers!


	6. Where do you think you’re going

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Action Double Feature! One day later than I was aiming for, but got two chapters done and up!
> 
> Warning/Possible Triggers: Injury, Near Death Experiences
> 
> If you find any possible triggers or warnings I would be grateful if you informed me.
> 
> Prompts used: Rescue

Tup succumbed to sleep shortly after getting his name, face pressed into Zombies thigh armor once more. Sitting in the dark with the only sounds being each other's labored breath and the steadily beeping comm unit. No matter how many reassurances they give to Tup the ARCs are starting to doubt rescue is coming. Or that they will still be here to be rescued. It’s been eleven hours since the cave in and they were all declining health wise. The already stale dusty air has been thinning and getting increasingly choked with dust and something sickly sweet. 

The longer they stay trapped the worse they get. Their eyes and skin are getting redder as the minutes pass. Breathes getting wheezy and increasingly ending in coughing fits. Their burning throats swelling and constricting their already severely dampened attempts to get air. The rising pressure in their chests also wasn’t helping catch a much needed breath, and making already sore ribs creak. And then their newest problem. Low oxygen and whatever toxins that's slowly creeping into their little haven has weakened them to a dizzying degree. Headaches and decreasing coordination has kept them from even attempting to move around the small space anymore; let alone attempt an escape.

Closing his eyes against the tinnitus and vertigo, Inferno leans his head back against the cavern wall. He knows digging them out would take time, but not this long. He thought three ARCs would be valuable enough to warrant a rescue. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe they were just deeper buried than he thought. Maybe they truly were just another casualty, another tally. Maybe the toxic fumes stopped the rescue team in their tracks and they just had to come from a different angle. Who knew. Either way, whether rescue was coming or not, it won’t be a concern of theirs for much longer. The shiny hasn’t woken up in the past five hours, no matter how hard they try. Melody collapsed two hours ago after his roughest coughing fit yet and has yet to move again. And just now Zombie is starting to list sideways onto Tup, eyes rolled up into his head.

None of this was good. If only his legs hadn’t been crushed… well he probably couldn’t get up even if they were fine. Everytime he opens his eyes black and red spots dance around his sight nauseatingly fast. Not to mention the ringing and the pounding in his head. A strong coughing fit sends him reeling and collapsing onto his side.  _ He can’t breath. _ His own chest is crushing him.  **_He can’t breath!_ **

The pound gets louder and louder. _Crack._ _CRACK._ CRACK. **CRACK!** Broken pieces of his skull raining down like mortars on his still working ear. Darkness and ringing that's all he knows… 

_ Where's the pounding gone? _

~…~

Irritating brightness and nostril stinging sterility was both a welcome return to the land of the living and an encouragement to fall back into the dark nothing of unconsciousness. Before he can decide on whether to fully wake up or fall back asleep, his decision is made for him in the shape of the shiny nearly materializing at his bedside. The shiny’s vibrating like a Kowakian monkey-lizard coming off a bad Carsunum trip. Whether it’s excitement or nerves, he’s too tired to tell.

“Should you be out of bed Tup'ika?” The scrutiny comes out rather muffled and it's only then that he recognizes the weight of the oxygen mask. Tup’s guilty look is answer enough, but he remains where he is and wholly unaware of the predator going in for the kill. Making eye contact with the smirking figure behind the kid gives him a strong urge to smirk in return.

“I do believe that is my question.”Kix’s smirk sharpened and grew when Tup jumped and proceeded to scramble back into his assigned cot. Watches like a hawk until his young patient is back where he’s supposed to be before turning his attention back on Inferno. “So then my next question would be, how are you feeling Mr. Comatose?”

“Death warmed up.” Inferno couldn’t help but snicker at Kix’s deadpan look. “But seriously, I can’t feel a karking thing through the painkillers. You gave me the good shit didn’t you.”

The sigh was a given answer to any ARC behavior, especially since Kix had to deal with the Domino brats; but the eye roll was unnecessary. 

“Yes, though if you hadn’t gotten your legs crushed that wouldn’t have been necessary.” He knew the medical disquisition all medics seem to have perfected, even himself, was just beginning. Kix continues as he makes his rounds recording his vitals and checking dosages of the variety of drugs they have him on.

“Lacerations, blaster burns, a menagerie of bruising, massive internal bleeding, onset infection of the right ear drum, oxygen deprivation, severe respiratory strain, eighteen of your ribs either broken or cracked, plus edema on top of all that.” Done with the monitors on that side he stalks to the other, never stopping his tirade. “Then we have your lower half. Six torn ligaments, nine ripped tendons, minor compression of the sciatic nerve in your left leg, seven fractures, and twenty seven broken bones, most of which are in your feet, but others include your right pelvic bone, femur and both patellas.”

Kix finally stops his rant and pacing, ending next to Inferno’s left hand to stare the ARC down with a raised brow. All Inferno could do was shrug and give a not so sincere apologetic grimace.

“Would you rather have me let Tup get crushed? I have the extra armor for a reason Kix.” 

The 501st medic’s face drops into an unimpressed glower. 

“A lot of karking good that did you.”

“I’m alive aren’t I?” Inferno makes the mistake of smiling at the medic, only for the glower to deepen into a full on glare.

“Only thanks to the general getting you four out when he did. No medic could have saved you if you were down there much longer. As is, you have a month if not more of therapy to look forward to.”

“What about the others?”

“They are mostly recovered after your five week nap in a bacta tank. Melody required a bit more intensive respiratory therapy than the others. He thankfully didn’t have any permanent injuries to his spine. Zombie has been back to active duty for three weeks now, while Tup and Melody have been on light duty for the past two.”

“Wait, then why is the kid still in medical?”

“Final physical, before returning to active duty. The 501st is being sent to Umbara with the 212th.” 

“Well good kriffing luck, that place is more of a shit hole than Raxus.”

With one last medic perfected eye roll Kix about faces and returns to Tup to finish his eval’. The only thing Inferno can think about, as the darkness swallows his consciousness once more, is the uncomfortable sinking feeling in his gut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you were curious.  
> Carsunum is a type of Spice and the toxic vapor was Diborane gas, an irritant that can cause some harm, but is recoverable from.


	7. Please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who ordered the extra long angstwich?
> 
> Warning/Possible Triggers: Death, Clone Wars Fan PTSD (I apologize in advance)
> 
> If I missed something please let me know.
> 
> Prompts used: "Get it out"

The hunt for Fives was all over GAR channels. That he was wanted for attempted assassination of the chancellor. It didn’t make sense. Fives was as loyal as loyal could be. There was no way he would attempt that, and even less likely that he killed Tup, even accidentally. They had to get him first, get him off of Coruscant, get him someplace safe. 

But where the kriff to start. They’ve collectively been to Coruscant twice, and only the GAR barracks and Coruscant Guard HQ. Where the kriff would a vod go to hide, what’s he planning. Does he even have a plan… He’s an ARC of course he has a plan. Maybe not, if what the Kaminoans say is true… No Kaminoans lie, they care only for perfect products and the prestige said products give. 

What would I do in his situation? First escape, but that gets me nowhere. Where to next, escape the planet? No the CG has ports on lock and while civs can’t tell the difference vode always can. Lie low would be the best opinion, but have to get out of sight first… Blend into the crowd! No can’t hide in civilian areas, a vode can always tell the difference. So where to go, where can he blend in?

“79s!” Melody and Inferno skid to a stop at the light post and swing around to stare at him.

“You want to get a  **drink,** **_NOW!_ ** ” The incredulous shrill taking over Melody’s voice was new, but completely warranted.

“No! That's the most likely place a vod would go to ditch a tail. Maybe we can find someone who's seen him! Or someone that at least knows Coruscant better than we do” He’s mentally mapping the quickest route to 79s as he argues. They don’t have time for this.

“He makes a good point, I heard that a lot of Torrent were heading that way earlier on in the night. Maybe he headed that way looking for help.” Inferno is always quick to agree if it saves precious time vod might not have.

“Come on it’s our best bet. Do you have any better ideas Melody?” 

“...no.”

“Great, let's double time it.” Barreling through the streets they make it to 79s right as a squad of CGs exit rushing to their speeders. “That's probably not good. We need to hurry.”

They rush into the bar. Looking for anything, or anyone familiar. Inferno spots him first, and immediately claims the spot at the booth across from Kix. The medic looks tense, more tense than he should be at a bar. He and Melody make brief eye contact before hurrying over. Melody claims the seat next to Kix effectively pinning him between the wall and three desperate ARCs.

“-ome on. You know something, your tense. Where’s Fives? We’ll help him, somethings off around here. Please Kix, for Tup.” Inferno begs holding out his hands to his fellow medic. They need his help, Fives needs his help, their help.

“We’re running out of time. The longer you delay the worse of a situation Fives is going to be in.” Melody trys the harsher approach, not caring about what emotional damage it may cause.

“Fine, alright! He wanted me to set up a meeting between him, the Captain, and the General.” Kix looks tired, most of them do this far into the war; especially command and the medically inclined vod. Though this is the exhaustion of a man pushed to his limit. He would know he’s seen this look plenty of times; whether on his squadmates, on his vod'ikas, or in the mirror he’s seen it.

“Where?”

“Some Warehouse, on the 1325 level. I still have the coordinates…  _ I hope you get there in time. _ ” They were quick to their feet once they had the coordinates. Exiting just as speedily as they entered, getting strange looks from their brother and some drunken grumbling. 

Stealing the speeder probably wasn’t advisable, but they have ground to cover and the faster the better. They drop levels at speeds greater than was probably legal, or even safe considering the speeder was nearing vertical. They had to brace themselves to stay within the vehicle, as they dropped at quicker and quicker speeds. As it turns out it was a more moronic idea than they thought, but that happens when Melody drives. When the level they needed to be on was quickly approaching they didn’t have time for a proper landing. All they could do was cringe and hold on as the speeder screeched across the landing pad.

Jumping out onto wobbly knees they scramble forward through the crowd. Closer and closer, their boots pounding on duracrete walkways. They follow the winding paths that make the already huge city planet seem endless. Rounding the last corner to see an open doorway and a circle of bucketless vod. Inferno gasps rushing forward to push his way through the guards and collapse on his knees. Hands fluttering over the fallen vod looking for any signs of life.

Zombie can tell when he finds none by the weight that collapses onto him and the gentle way he clasps Rexikas neck. He and Melody join the vod circle around Fives, his heart heavy with his failure. Another vod lost, another vod'ika he failed. Looking at the devastated look on Rex's face he silently swears to not fail him. Let him be the vod'ika that he keeps safe, that he sees through this hell.

The vod mourn as one but eventually jobs must be completed and as the guard leave with Fives’s body and General Skywalker departs to give his report, they circle Rex. Melody and Inferno press themselves deeply into his sides as he numbly watches another brother disappear. 

Zombie plants himself in front of Rex, blocking his view, and holds eye contact as he gently clasps his face. As he holds his vod'ika and tenderly presses into a keldabe he can feel him trembling. It was too much, this war has taken so many of them, and it has finally broken one of the strongest Kamino ever produced. Slowly, more time than one whose lost so much should have taken, Rex finally shatters. They hold him and as his strength that has seen him this far fails, they collapse as one never breaking contact.

But Rex is stubborn and inevitably he will always throw himself back into the roll of command, even if he wasn’t ready. Thus when he tries to talk through the steady stream of tears they aren’t surprised. “He… he said...”

“Take some time vod'ika, you don’t have to say anything now.” Melody soothes, squeezing Rex’s neck.

“No! He said that we all have chips in our heads... that the chips will control us… make us turn against the Jedi and kill them…” Melody and Inferno share a glance as Zombie presses the keldabe deeper. “...but I don't know if I believe that… if I want to believe that...”

“It’s going to be okay Rex'ika, we have you. You're safe, you did everything that you could. It’s okay.” Inferno holds tighter as he sedates the distressed Captain. “Come on, let’s get him back to the barracks.”

Zombie easily slings the Captain over his shoulders, but as he starts for the door he pauses. “Inferno… I want it out. Get it out of me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original blocking for this chapter had a lot more of ‘Orders’ in it, but I could not bring myself to rewatch the episode. It is one of the few arcs or episodes I can’t rewatch without bawling, and thus have not watched since the first time and ignore the existence of.  
> I will not be changing any major events that I know about in these short stories, I probably will if I ever get around to writing a full fanfiction again. But I mean Whumptober, and I guess now Whumpvember, are supposed to be mostly painful. So yeah, feels bad man.


End file.
